


Misdirection

by Dammit_Hawke, LinnyBear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Collaboration, F/F, F/M, Marian and Garrett as twins au, but it's college what do you expect, possible polyamorous whatchamahoozits, shipping clusterfuck, two girlfriends write a thing together, two sets of hawke twins maker help us all, wait for the boom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammit_Hawke/pseuds/Dammit_Hawke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinnyBear/pseuds/LinnyBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirkwall University is a normal, average, everyday college, thank you very much --well, that's some would have you believe. Cory Cadash and Eve Lavellan thought it was, too.</p><p>They just wanted a night of drinks and people watching in a bar. A seedy bar that smelled like vomit and desperation. They didn't expect to get dragged into a game of Wicked Grace with Marian Hawke and her merry band of misfits. There's a reason those who can call Hawke a friend will do anything she asks, no matter how dangerous and plain reckless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Men Hang

“Yeah, I know this is time sensitive, but I kind of have class tomorrow?” Corynn Cadash couldn’t believe it, but the back alley behind the Hanged Man actually smelled better than the bar itself. Eve was never going to let her pick a bar again. “This isn’t even my job, Berahlt. Can’t you get one of the girls from the laundromat to do it?”

At the very least, the dark, secluded alley gave her a place to talk to her contacts in the Carta without suspicion. And without Eve listening in.

“Hey, any other day I could play sick. But I have a test in like, three days and need to review.” She went to lean against the brick, and thought better of it when something crawled past where she was about to put her hand. “You wanted me to get this degree. So I’m getting it. Call me another day, okay? Yeah, fine. Yeah, I’ll be there this weekend, don’t worry. Okay, I should head back before my roommate checks on me.”

She hung up the phone as she tugged open the back door, and started pushing her way back through the crowded bar. The smell of vomit, body odor, sex, and cheap liquor hit her all at once, and she nearly gagged on it. From the looks of the couples grinding on the dancefloor, no one was turned off by it, which was quite the miracle. She considered asking Eve to just swing by the liquor store and take the party home.

When she finally rejoined her roommate at the bar, though, she found the elf very deeply engrossed in conversation with human woman whose goal seemed to be to wear as few clothes as possible yet as much gold jewelry to make up for it, and who was strategically running her hand along Eve’s thigh. Wonderful.

When she was just close enough, she could make out her friend asking quizzically, “But how do you do it? How do you even figure out a talent for guessing the color of people’s underwear?”

“You don’t figure it out, per se,” the woman chuckled. Corynn narrowed her eyes at the stud below her lip as she drew closer. “Sometimes you just… Know. And then you _know_.”

Her hand was dangerously close to the edge of Eve’s skirt, and -- Stone preserve her -- Eve barely seemed to notice. Corynn sighed heavily, deciding to intervene. “Eve,” She shouted above the music.

“Cory!” Eve perked up. “Isabela, this is my roommate, Corynn. Cory, this is Isabela. She’s quite friendly.” _Oh, I bet she is._ Corynn didn’t say that.

“Nice to meet you.” She held out a hand, making sure to shake the human woman’s hand extra firmly. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the look Isabela gave her for that.

“I was just about to invite Evelyn here up to my friend’s private loft.” There was no way in hell the Hanged Man had a _private loft_ , and Corynn opened her mouth to say so, but was interrupted. “You should come too! We’re two short for Wicked Grace anyway.”

“It just Eve, actually,” Eve cut in before Corynn could protest, waving a too-clumsy hand. “Eve Lavellan.” As if the clarification made the mistake any clearer. She turned to Corynn in the next moment, her eyes bright with the same excitement she always seemed to get around new people. “But we should definitely join them, Lethallan. Isabela tells the most interesting stories.”

“Just- just hold on a sec,” Corynn pursed her lips and moved closer, eyeing the table and the drinks liberally divvied out. “Have you been drinking? Did she give you something?”

And there was the sigh. “Only a sip, I swear by Elgar'nan, Cory. Come on, you know I’ve wanted to try Wicked Grace again-”

“Eve.”

“-And I won’t even bet everything in my pockets this time I promise.”

“Eve.”

“Please, Lethallan?”

She wanted to put her foot down, but something in the back of her mind reminded her that she was not, in fact, Eve’s mother. So she huffed instead. “Fine. But you know you can’t drink.”

“This’ll be fun, I promise,” Isabela threw Eve another glance that made Corynn uneasy. “And if it’s stories you like, just you wait until you meet my friend Varric… “

 

* * *

 

 The “private loft” Isabela had promised was not, in fact, a private loft.

It was, however, a shitty set of rooms with furniture more suited to a private loft. As it was, though, the the old wood floors and peeling walls ruined the effect the finery was trying to play almost as much as the creaking and settling in the foundation, mixed with the dull muffled sound from the bar below.

She wasn’t lying about others waiting for them, though. Isabela lead them in, an arm draped over Eve’s shoulder far too comfortably for Corynn’s taste, and they were greeted almost instantly by the sounds of a heated debate.

“...Just because you say that’s what it means, doesn’t mean there’s not a 90% chance that I’m not still convinced you just called me a frog.”

“I did _not_ call you a frog, Varric,” came the deep voice of a white haired elf, a human girl seeming all too comfortable in his lap with a video camera in hand. The elf pinched the bridge of his nose, not seeming to mind being the focus of the camera’s attention.

“But how do I know that, Elf?” A dwarven man with blond hair emerged from around the corner, a bottle of wine in hand. He set it on the table in front of the elf, holding up his hands in defense. “I don’t speak Tevene. We’ve been over this. I don’t even think Hawke’s picked any up.”

“Now that’s just not true.” The human girl protested. She’d been following the conversation the entire time with her camera, now jumping at the chance to steal the spotlight. “I’ve learned a handful of valuable phrases. Most of them are just only of use when clothes are not, in fact, in use.”

“Why do you do this to me, Hawke?” The dwarf groaned. “I actually don’t need to know all the details about what happens in your bedroom.”

“I do!” Isabela chimed in by way of greeting.

“Ah, you’re back! And you brought new people.” Hawke pointed the camera at them. “Okay. Place bets. Which one of these two lovely ladies will Bela be taking home tonight?”

Corynn pursed her lips again “That’s not - “

“My money’s on both.” Varric interrupted. “Although I didn’t know you were into dwarves, Rivaini. You should have told me. So many missed opportunities.” He winked, and Corynn rolled her eyes. _Not Carta, too flashy. No brand. Merchant’s Guild?_

“Bela’s back?” Another elf seemed to whisk into the room (Maker, how many were there?). The moment her eyes fell on Eve they seemed to light up -- not in the same way Isabela’s did, but enough to make Corynn skirt closer all the same.  “Aneth ara! Are you the one-”

“We already asked,” Hawke cut her off, tipping her head. “Still waiting for the answer.”

Well, that was enough.

“The answer is neither.” Corynn said firmly, gently taking Eve’s hand and tugging her a little away from the lounging crowd. “Afraid we both have class in the morning. Sorry to disappoint.”

Realization seemed to finally catch up with Eve, by then, her mouth forming a tiny O. “Was she- Wait, do they mean sex?”

“...Eve.”

Something changed in Isabela’s expression then, just slightly. “Well, that was the idea, sweet thing, but maybe not tonight.” She still smiled easily, though it wasn’t that hungry grin that had set Corynn on edge earlier. And she didn’t seem the least bit angry. Huh. “We still need people for Wicked Grace though. Just stay for a hand?”        

“But wait - how did I not know that was about _sex_?” Which finally earned a smile from Corynn.

“It’s easy to make that mistake. I’ve done it a lot of times.” The other Dalish elf said, too sweetly.

“No. No, Merrill, it’s really not.” The white haired elf was shaking his head.

“You know what?” Corynn decided to speak up, hoping she wasn’t going to regret this. “Let’s stay for a hand. I haven’t played Wicked Grace in forever.”

 

* * *

 

 “Cory, don’t forget your breakfast!” Eve reached back to grab the poptart off the counter.

“Thanks, mom.” Corynn joked, stepping back in the doorway to take it from her. “I’m surprised the weight of my poptart isn’t making you keel over. How do you carry all those books.” She took a bite, holding the door for her roommate, and asked through a mouthful of pastry: “Why do you carry all those books?”

“I might need them,” She answered. As always. Corynn rolled her eyes.

The drive to school was relatively uneventful. They got stuck behind a school bus and Corynn let out one of the few elvish swears she knew, earning a sharp look from Eve. They pulled into the parking lot with a few minutes to spare before Corynn’s first class.

“So, 3 o’clock for lunch before chem?”

“Sounds good. Try not to fall asleep, _Lethallan_?”

That proved to be a challenge for Corynn. Intro to finance was boring, but she did her best to stay awake, doodling in her notes so her mind could focus on the information. Of course, that backfired, and she was so engrossed in her drawing of a nug that she didn’t hear Varric approaching her.

“Didn’t take you for an artist, Bruiser.” He had a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and was stuffing his phone back in his pocket.

“You’re really going with that, aren’t you?” She snorted. “I didn’t know you had this class.” She closed her notebook and stood - she didn’t actually carry a bag. Why should she?

Varric shrugged. “Sure, why not? You’ve got muscles to spare. And the way you jump to protect your Firefly-”0 

“Eve.” Corynn cuts in, setting her jaw. “She has a name.” 

“You’re missing my point.” 

“Honestly wasn’t sure you had one.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I do, actually. Probably. Usually.” He flashed a toothy grin for her. Maker, she should’ve had some coffee before class. “You’re tough. You don’t hide it. I take it there’s plenty you do hide, but your willingness to mess someone up? To bruise? Nah, you wear that on your sleeve. And… your cheek.” 

She raised a brow at him. “You went there? Really?” She stood. “You know what, I’m supposed to meet Eve for lunch.” 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that - shit.” He sighed, and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “I know a lot of nobles give you shit for it, but that’s because they’re all assholes and I avoid their company as often as possible. No snide remarks about dirty ancestors from me.” 

She considered him a moment, then shrugged. “Fair enough. I mean, I didn’t take you as a noble, considering you live in seedy a bar.”

“A well-kept seedy bar.” She gave him a look. “Well, okay, my room is well kept. Hey, where’re you headed?”

“Business strategies?” It only sounded boring only because it was.

“I have that at 4. With Bodahn, right?”

“Yeah. You an accounting major?” She held the door out of the room for him.

“No, business. Are you?” He snorted. “That’s such a stereotype.”

“Hey, you just said you’re a business major.”

“True, true.” He just shrugged again. “Hey, see you and Firefly at the Hanged man again tonight?”

“Who - oh.” She sighed, or groaned more like. “I’ll see what’s going on tonight. I might have work.”

“Well, we’ll be there just in case. Catch you later, Bruiser.”

She found herself actually wanting to work her plans around making it to the Hanged Man again.

 

* * *

 

“Hawke. Hawke wake up.” Eve shook the woman’s shoulder gently. “Class is over.” 

Hawke woke with a start. “Garrett did it!” She blinked, seeming to take in where she is. “Right. Class over. Brilliant. We won, right?” 

“I don’t think you won anything but a spell with the Dread Wolf,” Eve laughed, carefully rolling a set of graphite pencils up in an old rag. “You slept through half the lesson- did you even finish your sketch?”

Hawke held up her sketchpad, which only bore half an outline of the sculpture they were supposed to be drawing. “Sure. This looks good enough.” 

“You barely started.” 

“It’s minimalism.” 

“Hawke.” 

“Eve.” Hawke scrunched her nose, imitating the chastising tone Corynn had used so liberally the other night. “I’ll finish ok, just-” She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring that the instructor wasn’t paying a lick of attention before pulling out her phone and fiddling with it. A moment later, she’d taken about three pictures of the sculpture and seemed far, far too pleased with herself. “There.” 

“You’re terrible.”

“Terribly great.” Hawke grinned at her, stuffing her sketchbooks  in her bag and barely bothering to pay a lick of mind to where her pencils ended up in the bag larger pocket, before shouldering it. “Where’re you headed?”

“Library,” Eve nodded in its general direction. “Don’t get enough time there, usually. Have to meet Cory at 3.”

“Mind if I tag along? I have this… feeling my roommate’ll be waiting for me to get home. I can only say ‘Yes Aveline, of course. I’ll clean it again’ so many times before my brain and tongue both fall out for telling lies.”

“You could actually clean up.” Eve suggested, slinging her bag over her shoulder. It was a miracle she kept her balance with the added weight. Hawke reached out to steady her elbow, though she was waved off a moment later. “Would probably solve the problem.”

“Eh, sounds too much like effort.” Eve just shook her head in response, and both women started for the library.

“So do you and the others play Wicked Grace often? Because that was actually fun. I think Cory even enjoyed herself.” The poor dwarf was always just so busy. And a bit cross. And overprotective. It was good to see that particular mask slip.

“Yeah. We usually have more people, but everyone else seemed to be working.” She shouldered open one of the double doors of the art building and held it open with her foot, letting Eve pass. “Except for my twin brother, who was far more into playing xbox drunk in his underwear. Can you believe that? Who passes up perfectly good company for video games?”

“You know, if it weren’t for the fact that Cory has declared herself my personal guardian, she’d probably do the same.” Eve gave a half grin.

“Yeah,” Hawke watched her out of the corner of her eye. “Why is that, anyway? I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s as adorable as a nug in a stocking. But just a little…”

“Odd?” Eve almost sighed. ”I know. Well, I know it’s odd. I can’t really say why she does it. I mean, I’m grateful, I really am, it’s just. She might think I’m more defenceless than I am.”

“You don’t say.”

“I’ve survived without her before. And I can do it again.” She straightened up a little, determined. The effect was lost almost instantly when they had to sidestep a couple on the path, too engrossed in their own whispers to move. “She’s going out of town this weekend, you know. I figure, why not prove I can still last without her holding my hand everywhere I go. I’m not a child.”

They paused outside the library, Hawke eyeing her critically as Eve did her best to seem Oh So Confident about her statement.

“Alright, but just level one thing with me.” Hawke raised a brow.

“Alright.”

“Did you honestly have no idea Bela wanted in your pants? I mean, from what she said, she almost had you right there before-”

“Elgar'nan, Hawke.” Eve rolled her eyes, pushing past her toward the building.

“What? It’s an honest curiosity!” She was on her heels, dropping her voice once they passed the front desk and started passing between bookshelves. “Don’t care what Merrill says, Isabela wouldn’t know subtlety if it bit her either nipple.”

“Is this why you followed me from class?”

“No, but Eve just- shit you walk fast what is with that come on.”

“I told you, I don’t have much time. You didn’t have to come with.” But she was grinning. “Come on, you can help me dig through reference for some article on the second Orlesian civil war.”

“That sounds boring.”

“Or you can go home to- Aveline, was it?”

“References are on the second floor, right?”

Eve grinned victoriously, looping an arm through Hawkes as she pulled her up a flight of stairs.

It took them about ten minutes to find three of the books Eve needed, and another fifteen before Hawke gave up and found a wall to sit against, watching Eve drag her stool from shelf to shelf so she could reach. Now that Hawke took the time to really study her, it wasn’t surprising she had to reach so far. She’d barely been taller than Corynn -- who made a point at some point in their Wicked Grace game to assert her Dominance over Varric as Shortest Dwarf. Both girls had tattoos adorning their faces, though Eve’s were more delicate, their lines tracing above her brows and along her jaws, a single line of the forest green ink seeming to slice her lower lip in half. The elves didn’t seem to shy from the possible pain, Hawke found herself thinking, realizing it wasn’t eyeliner framing Eve’s eyes but more of her markings.

Fuck.

She seemed to constantly be fidgeting with her dark copper hair as she sifted through books, pushing her fingers through it and readjusting the part as if she forgot her own undercut every other second.

Hawke wasn’t entirely shocked that Isabela’s eye had been at least drawn to Eve that night in the Hanged Man. Though she’d loath to accuse her of it, Rivaini did always seem to have a fondness for lost lambs.

There was nothing lost about Eve now, though. She knew the books, she knew this section of the library. She knew the slip of the spines along her hand as she placed and replaced them on the shelves. The stack of books by Hawke’s feet grew until, soon, Eve’s feet touched the ground a final time. 

“Alright. I think that will last.” 

“Last what? A year?” Hawke snorted, pushing to her feet.

“No. Just for today.” 

“Just-” Hawke opened and closed her mouth. “I’m sorry. Is this some Dalish joke I don’t get?” 

“Why would I joke about that? Here, carry these for me. He’ll be waiting.” 

Hawke opened her to protest, or at least question it, but she lost her gusto the moment half the stack of books was settled into her arms. “Eve-” 

“Come on, then.” Eve hoisted the rest into her own arms, seeming far too cheery to have that many books on the second Orlisian civil war, and turned on her heel to lead the way.

Hawke, left with no choice and no room to protest, followed. 

It was probably only by the Maker’s grace that they took the elevator up to the fourth floor, a trip Eve promised was the last stop. The closer they got to the secluded study areas, the faster Eve was walking, leaving Hawke farther and farther behind. 

When she finally managed to catch up, she was cursing under her breath about Andraste’s various private parts. Eve waited for her patiently outside a door, using her foot to knock on it. 

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Hawke grunted when she got close. “This is all some twisted payback for the other night, right? Look, we tried to warn you that Isabela always cheats. Like three times.” 

“What? No, of course not. You’re just helping me carry books.” 

“But to where?” Hawke demanded, exasperation twinging her voice.

“My tutor-” Before Eve could finish, the door pulled open, a tall elf glaring down at them.

“There was a time when libraries were a place a quiet,” the man scolded Eve first, before his eyes fell on Hawke. “Perhaps you can teach your friend to respect that, Lethallan.”

“I think that would take more miracles than anything,” Eve flashed an apologetic smile. “Solas; this it Hawke. A friend. You remember friends, right? I have them, sometimes.”

“Hm. Like that dwarf you call a roommate.” He stepped back to let them through. Hawke followed Eve past him, watching him carefully as they set the books down for him to examin. Maker, how could one man be so bald and full of himself at the same time?

“So,” Hawke cleared her throat. “He’s you’re-”

“Tutor.” Eve put in before Hawke could even begin to let her imagination wander over it. His back was to them still, making it hard to see anything but his bald head and the points of his ears.

“Please tell me,” Hawke dropped her voice more, “that I’m not the only one to think he looks like an egg.”

“Creators, Hawke, he does not.” Eve giggled, loud enough that Solas turned and raised an eyebrow at her. There was a book in each of his hands, two separate piles already being sorted.

“...No he definitely does.” Hawke shook her head.

“Ok, I think it’s time for you to go.” Eve quickly grabbed Hawke’s wrist to tug her out.

“What, but- Aw, later eggman!” Hawke barely waved to Solas over her shoulder before she was tugged out of the study room, the door shut behind them.

“How does anyone take you anywhere, Hawke?”

“You know, Aveline and Bethany ask me that a lot too.” She snorted. A grin spread on her face even as she pulled out her beaten up phone. “So for the record, how long should I tell Varric you’ve been seeing an older egg. Approximately.”

“He’s not an egg,” Eve huffed.

“Excuse me. An older shiny marble? Crystal ball?” Hawke managed to take a picture of the older elf in question through the small window in the door.

“Just go, Hawke.” She took a breath. “Thank you for helping me with the books. I have it from here.”

“Sorry to get you all scrambled -”

“Creators. You’re actually worse than Cory.”

“Have an eggcellent time.”

Eve blinked, while what felt like a whole minute passed. “You. You actually went there.”

“Don’t let him whisk you away.”

“Ok I’m. I’m going to open the door. And then close it between us. Ok? Ok. Ok?”

“Fine, fine. See you next time your dwarf bodyguard lets you out of the house.” She turned away before Eve could answer, and sent her inconspicuous picture of the elf librarian to Varric and Bela. _Eve wants to kiss this egg_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Livvia (Dammit_Hawke):  
> Dear readers,  
> As you read this, picture the two of us giggling now. As you read the coming chapters, picture us snickering fondly. And later, as you're reading through your tears, picture us cackling with wine. Then making out on a printed copy of this fic. Gosh. Great idea Livv.  
> Thank you for existing,  
> Bless your faces,  
> Livv<3
> 
> From Sarah (LinnyBear):  
> The Carta owns a number of businesses on the surface that they use as fronts, including a few laundromats. They literally launder their money.
> 
> Also I have so many egg puns. Just. Lots of puns in general. I am honestly so excited to use all of them thorughout this fic. I'm so sorry LIvvia. Everyone else: I am not the least bit sorry.
> 
> EDIT:  
> From Livvia:  
> Honestly, I don't know why she's saying sorry to me. You should all know that like half our relationship is build on horrible puns. Really the puns just make me love her more.


	2. Meet Me In The Pit

By most standards, Haven was not, in fact, much of a ‘haven’ of any kind. The paint was far from fresh and much of the apartments fixtures needed more maintenance work then the facility could afford (or so the landlord claimed).

To Eve, though, it was charming.

Well, charming enough. It was a roof over her and Corynn’s head, a room for each of them, a kitchen. The living room of their apartment was small, but she cleaned the sliding glass door that led to their little balcony so often that it seemed almost bright and open.

Merrill’s eyes were saucers the moment Eve let her in, the story she’d been telling so excitedly dying on her lips the next moment.

“Oh, but this is so nice.” Merrill turned to her as Eve moved to put the grocery bags she was hauling on the kitchen counter. Merrill skipped after her, setting down her own. “This is much nicer than my place. You have a working dishwasher and everything!”

“You haven’t even seen the washing machine,” Eve grinned.

“You have a _washing machine_?” Merrill spun around, as if it would materialize right behind her.

“In the closet over there.” Eve made a vague motion. “Cory was very adamant about that one. I asked about cleaning things in the sink instead and she almost fainted.”

“No, you asked about washing your clothes in a _pond._ ” She walked into the room, arms full of partially folded clothes. “Who does that? Is that an elf thing?”

Eve’s cheeks burned beneath the green of her vallaslin. “Well that was before I knew there weren’t any ponds around here, thank you.”

“My question stands. Is that an elf thing, Merrill?”

Merrill giggled as Eve ducked away to put the groceries in the fridge. “Sometimes, yes. Dalish camps don’t always have running water, you know. Streams are better for washing clothes though. Why didn’t you ask about a stream?”

“The Dread Wolf took my tongue, that day.”

“You’re both so. Elfy.” Cory muttered, struggling with the load in her arms. “Speaking of-- your boyfriend called while you were in class.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” It caught Eve’s attention all the same.

“Whatever. Your egg-man, then. Said he’d be by after he took a nap?” She held a shirt up against herself, frowning. “Which is just. So polite of him. Let me tell you. Wow. Quite a catch there.”

“Are you quite done?”

“Not yet, but I think I can save some of my better material for when he gets here. Hawke had some _great_ egg puns-”

“Cory. No. Please no.”

“Cory yes.” She gave up on folding her shirt neatly and stuffed it into her suitcase.

“Who are we talking about?” Merrill piped up, perching on the edge of a well-worn armchair.

“Eve has a boyfriend who works in the library-”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“-and looks like an egg.” She gave Eve a bright, innocent smile and went back to sorting through the pile of clothes to decide what belonged in the suitcase.

“He doesn’t look like an egg - why do people keep saying that?” She frowned at Corynn’s mess of a packing job. “Do you have to pack so much for three days, Cory?”

“I like to be prepared.” She just shrugged.

Merrill seemed to miss what was about to be an argument. “Ooooh, where are you going?”

“Just to visit some family in Ostwick.” She shrugs without looking up. Too focused on the clothes in front of her, as if they just became a little more frustrating.

“Oh, that must be nice. Do a lot of dwarves live there? I never met any dwarves before Varric. The ones I know seem nice.”

“Maybe you should stick with Varric,” Cory laughed. “They can be alright. But Varric’s as good as we come -- Have you seen my toothbrush?” She broke off, turning to Eve. She was tugging at her hair nervously the way she always did when Eve started asking too many questions; she should have thought to warn Merrill.

“It should be in the bathroom- check in the cabinet; I might’ve tidied this morning.”

Cory turned away without another word, the suitcase left forgotten for the moment while she disappeared to the bathroom. Eve tried not to flinch at the sounds of little mouthwash bottles and toothpaste being knocked over or falling into what sounded like the sink or on to the floor.

“You’ll have to excuse her,” Eve cleared her throat, turning to pull a pan out of one of the kitchen cabinets.. “She doesn’t much like to talk about her family.”

Merrill opened her mouth to answer, only to be cut off by a light knock at the door. Eve set the pan on the stove to wait, flashing an apologetic smile for Merrill before she moved to the door.

Solas was standing with his hands folded behind his back, patiently waiting. Well, as patiently as he ever waited-- Eve sometimes suspected his patience could only fit a thimble, at times. It always seemed that way when he talked to others, at least.

“Lethallan.” His eyes slid past her to the mess of Corynn’s suitcase, then to Merrill. “My apologies; I did not expect you to have company. Your roommate assured me she would let you know I was coming, but…”

From the other room, Corynn called: “Her world doesn’t revolve around you, Egg Man.” Eve scowled in her direction, but chose to ignore it otherwise.

“She did, she did tell me. When I got home, I mean. Merrill was in my last class, and we thought perhaps snacks while we study would be nice.” She took his hand to lead him in. “Merrill’s clan had some sweet vegetable treats she missed, I had some sweet cakes from mine I missed. There’s so many treats to miss, Solas.”

“They do tend to be one of the few high points of your people.” He noted.

“Of _our_ people.” Merrill added, just a note of irritation. “And of course they are.”

Solas’s mouth tightened a bit, his hand slipping out of Eve’s. “Did you need help cooking, Eve?”

_What happened to Lethallan?_

Eve forced a smile and nodded. “Of course. Yes. Wash your hands, then. Maybe we can have something ready before Cory has to leave.”

“By the stone, is the Egg going to scramble some of his own kind?” Cory asked from the doorway of her room. Merrill giggled, and Eve rolled her eyes.

“Do I still have to apologize for her?” Eve asked, pulling some flour down from the cupboard. “You’re used to this by now, right?”

Solas only nodded. “Sadly, yes. What interesting company you keep.”

“It gets more interesting by the day, I promise.” Eve handed Merrill a cutting board. The other elf flashed her a smile and pulled the carrots out of the fridge.

“I went over the books you left me with, by the way.” Solas leaned against the counter, watching as Merrill began to carefully chop and Eve began to measure ingredients into a bowl. “I must say, Lethallan. I’m disappointed.”

Eve barely glanced at him, her lips pulling up in more of a grin. “Disappointed?”

“You’ve insulted me with the selections.”

“How ever could I-”

“Lethallan.”

“They had funny names. I had to, Solas.”

“Pardon me but,” Merrill raised watched them, her eyebrows raised. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Which happens a lot, I suppose.”

“Oh, I uh… Might have snuck in a few volumes of Brother Genetivi’s works on Dalish history.” Eve grinned again. “And a few others just for fun.”

“All of them insultingly inaccurate,” Solas grumbled.

“Insulting is such a strong word-”

“They were,” He repeated, “Insultingly inaccurate.”

The door to Corynn’s room kicked open again as she came out with more clothes, this time none of them folded at all. “Sometimes I have hopes that she’s being a genuine dick to him,” Corynn mumbled, stuffing them into the suitcase without preamble and, with all the grace of brute force, tried to force the all the fabric in at once. “But unfortunately I think she’s just trying to flirt. I don’t think she knows how to flirt.”

Corynn looked up at Solas, struggling with the zipper so very close to closed. “Does it even work? Are insulting books a turn on. Wait. Is _that_ an elfy thing? Merrill?”

“I’ve never been turned on by an _insulting_ book,” Merrill chimed in. “Unless the dirty books Isabela gives me are insulting. I suppose they might be, to someone.”

“That’s… Okay.” Corynn looked as if she were debating commenting, and decided not to.

“Oooh, I should let you and Solas borrow them sometime!” Merrill perked up, eyes bright. Eve, meanwhile, dropped an egg. “They’re very nice actually, especially the ones with - “

“Hey, what was that recipe for the vegetable things again? I need that. Let’s focus on that.” Eve pushed her hair out of her face with a laugh that may have been a little too high, before scooping the broken and dripping egg mess off the counter in a sad attempt to clean it up.

“Please tell me you’re not saving that to use as lube.” Eve spun on Cory, face burning, while Merrill just laughed.

“Alright, Corynn, no need to embarrass her further.” Merrill was still laughing though, which didn’t help. At all. A brief silence fell while Merrill and Corynn tried to pull themselves together, leaving Eve to sigh and make a very admirable attempt at ignoring them in favor of putting a whisk to the batter now in her bowl.

“The books are not a turn on.” Solas finally put in, collecting the vegetables Merrill had chopped so he could saute them on the stove. “Just for the record. I think she is, as you were saying, attempting to ‘be a dick’.”

That shouldn’t have been a comfort, but somehow Eve found her shoulders relaxing just a little. She finally chanced a glance at him, relieved that his back was at least to her. Creators, she was going to kill the others later

“Well I am frankly appalled at your language.” Corynn clutched her chest, feigning shock. “Eve, you’re a terrible influence. You should be ashamed.”

“Elgar’nan, Cory, he learned that from _you_.”

“I am, in fact, still here.” Solas sighed.

Cory made a happy sound, finally getting her suitcase closed. “Technicalities.”

Eve just shook her head, and set back to mixing her dough.

\---

Cory left that night, and by the following day Eve actually found herself a bit lost. The apartment was quieter, though she expected that. Her phone felt like a dead weight in her pocket; Cory was really the only person who ever called or texted her, until recently. She had rules when she was with her family, apparently -- which Eve respected. Family was important, after all, right? She should be focused on spending time with them.  
Walking the streets of Kirkwall was harder alone, though. Alone wasn’t something she’d had to do much of, since meeting Cory freshman year. It seemed like every moment outside class they were at each other’s sides, aside from Eve’s time in the Library with Solas. Cory always knew where to go, who to see, where to have drinks; without her there it felt a little like Eve was just drifting down the sidewalk, watching other people pass by with a purpose in their step while she passed from the docks to Lowtown.

Until she stopped, her feet faltering in front of the Hanged Man.

Well, at least it was familiar.

The music wasn’t as loud as it had been the last time she’d been there, though she supposed it was a bit earlier in the evening. Only a few people scattered the tables, and even fewer turned their head to see who had entered.

It was early for a drink, but it was still nice to be around other people. People were nice. They could be nice. Maybe they weren’t always nice, like when Solas and Cory got into an argument with each other, but when you gave them a chance they could be. They were nice with her, at least.

She was barely a few steps into the pub when the door opened behind her, a conversation -- and the speakers -- crashing into her all at once.

“-But I’m telling you Marian, we got the bulk of the spiders last time. It’ll only be deepstalker and- Shoot, sorry.” A man, almost a head taller than Eve, caught her before she could fall (which was kind of him, considering he was the one who’d brambled into her).

“No, no, sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing there.” Eve stumbled a step back.

“Don’t apologize to him. He doesn’t deserve it.” Hawke stepped out from beside the man, grinning.

“Creators, Hawke, I’m so glad to see you. I thought I’d be alone all weekend.”

Hawke laughed as Eve threw her arms around her neck; a few days classes, and a few nights of wicked grace had made it so much easier to warm up to her.

“Maker, you’re another of them, aren’t you?” The man beside her crossed his arms, though he sounded amused. “You know, she’s not the only Hawke. She doesn’t have exclusive rights to the name.”

“Well she never told me another name.” Eve shifted so she was only hugging one of Hawke’s arms instead, grinning up at the man. “Are you another Hawke? How many are there, then?”  
“I am.” The grin he gave was the kind her Keeper would have said could charm a herd of Halla, in the right light. “Name’s Garrett -- hers is Marian, by the way.” He draped an arm over Marian’s shoulder. “Only two others, besides us.”

“But we’re the alpha twins.” Marian tipped her nose up. “No matter what Carver says, the first set of twins are always the best. Remember that.”

“Do humans have a lot of twins?” Eve asked, honestly curious. And suddenly wishing she could remember if that sort of thing was rude to ask. “It seems odd to have two sets in a family.”

“The Maker decided the world needed more Hawkes,” Garrett said, with a friendly grin Eve decided she trusted. “Whether as a blessing or a punishment is unclear.”

“I would call that one the work of the Dread Wolf,” Eve muttered, and Hawke practically cackled.

“Hey, come up to Varric’s room,” Hawke was already trying to drag Eve along. “We’re planning sort of a day trip, and you should come too.”

“A day trip?” Eve quirked up an eyebrow. “To where, exactly?”

“Marian, _please_ don’t drag her into this too. I can already tell she’s not interested.”

“Oh, come on Garrett, who doesn’t love the Bone Pit?”

“Literally everyone,” he groaned. “No one wants to go to a haunted freaking mine.”

Eve perked up. “Haunted mine?”

“See? Look at that face. Interested. She’s totally interested.” They were halfway up the stairs, much to Garrett’s apparent chagrin. “Relax, she’ll love it! Besides, you said you’re alone this weekend right? What’s that, your bodyguard’s run off?”

“Visiting family. She won’t be back till monday.” Eve nodded while Hawke paused at Varric’s door to fish a key out of her brother’s pocket. He tried to swat her away but she merely stuck out her tongue, got her target, and slipped out of his reach to let them in.

“Excellent. Then you’re all ours. Varric! You here?” Hawke called, pulling Eve and Garrett in.

Varric came in a moment later, drying his hands with a dishrag and Isabela close at his heel.

“Who’s ours now? Ooh, Eve dear, how I missed you.” Isabela grinned, resting an elbow on on Varric’s shoulder. “Just in time. Coming with us to our personal corner of hell, Sweet Thing?”

“It’s not _that_ bad, Bela.” Hawke waved her off. “We have fun there sometimes. Right?”

“One threesome does not a fun mine make.”

“Wait wait- you did what in the mine?” Garrett cut in, giving Hawke a scandalized look. “In the _mine_?”

Hawke opened her mouth, closed it, then cleared her throat and made a show of straightening her shirt as if to make herself more presentable. “As an adult, I neither have to confirm or deny what I do with my friends, boyfriend, or in the Bone Pit.”

“I. Am just going to die one day. You’re going to kill me. What would mother say if you kill your own twin?” Garrett clutched at his chest, feigning desperation.

“She won’t be surprised, honestly,” Hawke remarked, dryly.

“Can we get this over with? I hate being in the Bone Pit after dark.” Varric paused. “Or, ever. But Bianca and I would both prefer daylight.”

“Is Bianca someone we’re meeting?” Eve glanced around, getting on her toes to try and see over Isabela and Varric’s shoulders. Beside her, Garrett seemed to be trying to muffle a snorting laugh.

“Of sorts.” Isabela grinned. “Bianca’s a crossbow. Varric’s crossbow, to be precise. Speaking of, you might want to arm yourself if your coming. I imagine being Dalish you didn’t move to town defenceless.”

“Oh, of course not. I have something at my apartment I think. It’s-” She hesitated, then tried to smile sheepishly as though her pause was embarrassment rather than the truth. “Well, we did some hunting. I’ve got a bow, some arrows. I’m sure it’s a far cry from your Bianca, though, Varric.”

“Ah, most out there are.” He sighed. Eve thought he sounded a bit like he was talking about a lover.

“Let’s be off then!” Hawke clapped Eve on the shoulder. “To the scary haunted adventure mine!”

“Maker, I hate the Pit.” Someone behind them muttered; Eve couldn’t quite tell if it was Varric or Garrett.

\---

Eve wanted her staff. Creators, she wanted her staff. The car had too many people in it, especially after they’d picked up Fenris, and though her bow and quiver were a comfort all Eve wanted in that moment was the old twisted Sylvan wood of her staff.

The longer they were in the car, the more Varric and Garrett grumbled about the last trip they took to the Bone Pit (that apparently ended with them attempting to buy out every first-aid kit they could find as soon as they were back in the city, plus every bit of gauze.She didn’t ask for any other details.) She tried, at one point, to ask what they might expect, but Varric just kept telling saying “spooky shit, spooky spiders, spooky asshole creepers.”

It took about half an hour to get out of the city, and another forty-five minutes after that before Hawke turned the car off the main road, on to a worn dirt path. Fenris begged her to be careful from the passenger's seat, but Eve was fairly certain the request fell on deaf ears.

The car finally parked beside a rusting metal fence; and, leaning right against it, was Merrill and a bright red bicycle. She waved, beaming, as they approached. Eve eyed the sign over the other elf’s shoulder and gave Marian an increasingly weary look.

“It says ‘Private Property’, Hawke. Are we even allowed to be here? I’ve been yelled at enough by my Keeper to know Private Property means we might get shot.”

“Oh, I don’t think the owners mind too much.” Hawke waved her off, circling to the trunk of her car with the others. It took a few moments to hand out their arms -- Varrics crossbow _was_ impressive, a well kept sword and sheathed sword for Fenris, daggers for Isabela, and a pair of hatchets for Garrett, both painted a light blue almost the color of lyrium.

Last, she pulled out a staff, her fingers brushing the wood fondly. Eve’s hands tightened on her bow at the sight of it, turning to say something to Merrill-- Only to find a staff in her hands as well.

“You’re mages,” she finally breathed, as if it lightened a weight in her chest.

Merrill’s smile was kind. “We are. You won’t tell though, right? Apparently the humans are, well...”

“Mostly assholes about it.” Marian leaned against her staff beside them. “Like massive, huge, gaping-”

“Hawke.” Fenris put a hand on the small of her back as he came up beside her.

“What? I’m calm. Promise. But really, mums the word, yeah?”

“Of course. I won’t tell. Promise.” Eve offered a smile she hoped inspired confidence.

“Good! Because if you did, I might have to turn you into a frog.” Hawke grinned, that smile that Eve just hoped was joking.

“Are we all ready?” Garrett scanned the crowd, then before anyone could answer, declared: “Excellent. Let’s go.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait for you to see the mine!” Merrill followed in step beside Eve. “I mean, it’s definitely a bit scary, and dark, and I’m almost certain it’s haunted. But there are the most _darling_ little deep stalkers. I swear, I’m taking one home with me one day.”

“Only you, Daisy,” Varric was shaking his head, laughing. “Only you.”

  
It was a short trek up to the mouth of the mine. Garrett offered Eve a hand when the ground got rough, and she let him help, though she knew she didn’t need it. The cave was dark at first, cooler only a few steps in than the side of the mountain was. Eve let a hand skim along the cave wall with fascination, lingering at the back of the group until Merrill took her hand and gave it a tug.

They tried to be quiet, waiting until the deep mushrooms began lighting their way so they didn’t have to feel around blindly. Still, Hawke tapped her staff on the cave floor twice so the twisted wooden top seemed to trap a fistful of light. Merrill seemed to brighten at the idea, tapping her own staff so it glowed as well. By Eve’s side, Garrett’s shoulders seemed to relax just a little in relief.

“You know,” She said softly so the others couldn’t hear. “I have this stone wolf pendant my mother gave me.” One of her hands slid into her pocket. “She said hold it when your scared and I’ll hear you. No matter where you are, I’ll take a little of your fear, share it, make it easier to bare. She made a pendant of it for me.” She offered him a smile. “It was silly, but it helped. It wasn’t just for me, though. She made little dolls for other children to whisper their fears to, said the dolls would help guard them from them.”

“Wouldn’t that take a lot of dolls?” Garrett raised an eyebrow. In front of them, Isabela had taken Merrill’s hand to keep her still while they crept farther in. Fenris was muttering in Marian’s ear where she lead them, Varric just behind with his crossbow at the ready.

“It would. She was good at making more, though. There was one little boy who hated sleeping in his family’s aravel -- it was so dark, he said. He hated the dark. So my mother went to the Keeper and said, ‘I know what this child needs, give me a week before sending hunters to search for me’.”

“A week?” Garrett was the only one of them that had to duck when the ceiling lowered, the others pausing just long enough for them to catch up.

“Oh yes. Wherever she had to go, it wasn’t close to where the clan was camping. It would take that long to realize something had gone wrong. She came back fine, though, with these stones that would glow in the dark. It took her a few days to carve, but by the weeks end she had bracelet for the little boy with all the creators carved into the glowing stone beads, and a stone left over for my pendant.”

She pulled it out for him to see, let it fall gently in his hand when he reached for it.

“Why the wolf?” He asked, turning it over carefully. Merrill looked back at them, seeing the pendant.

“Fen’harel.” She breathed. “The Dread Wolf.”

Eve nodded. “Mom thought it might protect me from deception. Or protect me from him. That’s what she said. I think it was only because I kept asking Keeper to tell me stories about him.” She gave Merrill a small smile.

Garrett closed his hand over the pendant for a moment, as if it might help him too, before holding out to give it back to Eve. “Your mother made it well.”

“She did love making things like it.” She pulled the wolf back, appreciating its glow in the palm of her hand for a moment before slipping it back in her pocket.

“Guys,” Marian called from ahead. “Incoming! Brace yourselves.”

Garrett and Eve shared one last glance and a nod before both readying themselves. Garrett jogged ahead to his sister’s side, hatches at the ready, while Eve nocked an arrow and stalked up the rear.

Marian was the first to strike, freezing a dragonling in its path. Another jumped over the first , aiming squarely for Marian’s hip. A bolt struck it in the eye, courtesy of Varric, before one of Garrett’s hatchet’s hacked into its head.

Half a dozen more dragonlings hissed and scurried toward them, snapping at them and spitting streams of fire. Eve cursed under her breath, letting an arrow loose at the nearest creature. She was out of practice -- too out of practice. The shot ended up going wide, barely missing Isabala’s leg, though she didn’t seem to notice.

Merrill did, though. They met each other’s eyes for a moment, Merrill’s eyebrows drawing together briefly as if a question was right there on her tongue. There was no time, though. Isabela yelled for Merrill’s attention, drawing it away before she could say anything.

There wasn’t time to let out a breath of relief. The dragonlings were doubling their efforts, though Fenris had managed to decapitate one and Isabela pinned.

“Marian!” Garrett yelled as two began overwhelming him, one latching its teeth into his arm while the other spit sparks at his feet.

“Little busy here--” Hawke griped back, using the blade of her staff to beat back a dragonling, electrocuting it as she did.

Varric was trying to keep everyone covered, but couldn’t get a clear enough shot of the one attached to Garrett. Desperate, Garrett swung his arm, dragonling and all, against the mine’s wall. it let out a hiss and fell, its eyes catching on Eve instead.

She stumbled a step back and loosed an arrow at it -- this time luckier in finding her mark, though it was so low in the dragonling’s back that it only seemed to annoy it. Two more missed arrows later and it had her backed against a wall, the quiver at her hip rattling.

The quiver seemed to catch the dragonling’s attention; though she tried to skid out of the way, the dragonling snapped at the quiver and snatched it off her belt with a _crack_.

“By the Dread Wolf,” she breathed, gripping at her bow. The others weren’t looking, too distracted by their own lizards. The dragonling hissed again, threatening to stalk forward again. “Creators, forgive me.”

It was a bad idea; it was a horrible, awful idea. It was possibly the worst idea she’d had all week. But her options were short and her best shot at defending herself was with a something to channel the energy.

She wished so much that she had her staff.

She raised her empty, arrowless bow and drew the string back as if to take aim at the dragonling, taking in a deep breath. The moment she let it go, a strip of lightning struck out at the dragonling, knocking it back. Before it could regain any focus, she fired another, killing it.

“Break my arrows, will you.” She muttered, moving forward to rejoin the others. They weren’t fairing much better then before. She wasted little time jumping into the fray, sending out a few of her bolts of lightning to the dragonlings hounding Garrett first. The additional aid seemed to help, allowing him enough space to get ahead enough to break past the dragonlings Merrill and Isabela were dealing with so he could get to Marian and Fenris.

The tide soon shifted over all, dragonling after dragonling falling until, finally, the last of them slid from Fenris’s blade.

They were all covered in dragon blood by then, though Garrett seemed to be the only one actually hurt among them. Marian moved to his side immediately, though he tried not to let her look at the deep bite marks on his arm, bloody though they were.

Eve stepped closer to the slowly gathering group, each trying to assess themselves and each other for any other injuries as if this was normal. Before she could say anything, or check on anyone, she felt Merrill’s hand on her shoulder.

“Eve. You are no hunter.” Merrill’s eyes bore into her, holding less of the kindness they had before. Eve took a step back, opening her mouth when the others turned to look at them.

Everyone else fell silent. Even Marian stopped fussing with Garrett’s arm, though she didn’t entirely forget it. Her eyes flickered over Eve, brow pulling together.

“What happened to your arrows? Your quiver?” She asked.

“I-” This was a bad time to be in the middle of nowhere without Cory. This was a horrible time to be in a mine with anyone but Cory. “One of them bit it off- broke it back there. I didn’t--”

“But I saw you firing till the end. How did you..?” Isabela tipped her head, then looked at Merrill. “Kitten, you said she’s not a hunter?”

“No.” Merrill shook her head. “I think she lied to us.”

She stepped around Isabela, closer to Eve. She was a few inches taller, though she couldn’t have been much older. Eve did her best not to flinch as Merrill traced a finger along her Vallaslin. She held her breath until, finally, the hand fell away and Merrill turned to the others.

“She’s a mage. I imagine her clan didn’t decide to send her to kirkwall lightly.” She turned back to Eve. “Or am I mistaken?”

There was a long, tense beat, but finally she shook her head. “You are not mistaken. At all.” Now would be a great time to run, if she had a mind to. If she knew the surrounding area better. She should have spent so much more time with the hunters, should have learned more about about tracking or navigating.

Marian exchanged a look with her brother and moved to step forward, only for Fenris to take her hand firmly, holding her back. His eyes were narrowed at her, probably the most guarded of any of them at this point. The hair on the back of her neck prickled under his cold scrutiny.

“It’s fine, Fenris. Let me go.” Marian said under her breath. His grip only tightened at first, but a moment later he relented and let her go.

She stepped forward, sidestepping a dragonling corpse as she approached close enough to meet Eve’s gaze. Eve actually felt _nervous_ \- she’d never imagined Hawke could look so serious, even in as short a time as she knew the woman.

“Look, I don’t care that you’re an apostate - I mean, I am too. Most of my friends are actually, and I don’t know how that happens - that’s not important.” She placed a hand on Eve’s shoulder. “But there is something important I need to know.”

Eve’s eyes were absolute saucers. “Ok, I mean, sure. Whatever it is, I guess?”

“Hawke, are you sure-”

“We didn’t ask for the peanut gallery, Varric.” She didn’t even look at him, too focused on Eve. “Now, from what I understand, sometimes your clans know types of magic others don’t, like-”

“Like the witch there being a bloodmage.” Fenris muttered.

“Fenris, hush. You’re peanut gallery too.”

Eve tried to glance from Merrill to Fenris, but Marian’s hand on her shoulder took her chin, forcing her to focus back on her.

“This is important, Eve.”

“I- You said that.”

“Did your clan have any spells like that? That others wouldn’t know?”

“I don’t- I mean, I’m not sure? I have much to compare it to, besides my own clan, and-”

“Eve.” She couldn’t place if Hawke looked ready to kill her on the spot, or if she was trying to study her.

“Is this normal?” Eve asked in a frightened whisper.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Isabela hummed from where she was diligently cleaning out under her nails with one of her daggers.

“Eve.” Hawke repeated. She placed both hands on Eve’s shoulders, leveling her gaze intensely. “Do you know. How to become a dragon?”

Eve blinked. Behind her was a chorus of “Hawke, no.”

“Hawke, yes.” Marian hadn’t averted her eyes from Eve. “I really need to know - “

There was a blood curdling _shriek_ from somewhere deeper in the cave, and Eve thought she saw flames licking at the stones somewhere around where the tunnel bent out of sight.

“Shit,” Varric groaned, sounding less scared and more just put-off.

Hawkes eyes lit up. “Dragon. Dragon - DRAGON - Fen Garrett Varric whohasmycamerawhere’smycameraINEEDIT!”

“Marian, I don’t think - “

“ _Camera_ , Garrett, hurry!”

“Does she even know what priorities are?” Eve asked breathlessly.

“Oh, sure.” Merrill grabbed her hand, pulling her along. “She’s just got them out of order sometimes, is all.”

“Hawke, please tell me we’re filming the dragon from a respectable and safe distance.” But Varric was loading Bianca even as he spoke.

“Hell no!” She was actually _cheering_. Creators above, Eve’s new friends were insane. “This could be the greatest thing I ever film. We need to fight this dragon immediately.” She’d gotten the camera from Garrett and had it strapped securely to her left hand already, the red light on and recording. Her staff was in her other hand, as though she was more than used to fighting like that.

Everyone seemed resigned to follow, more or less, though none of them seemed as thrilled about the coming fight as Hawke did -- Eve doubted anyone could be as excited about fighting a dragon as Hawke was, right then. They edged toward the bend in the tunnel cautiously, spear-headed by Marian with Fenris protectively at her side. Eve followed up the rear with her bow, almost wishing she hadn’t lost the arrows -- though she knew she was better off without them.

The dragon was, in a word, terrifying. And magnificent. Its yellow and brown scales were covered in soot and dirt, but still glittered in the afternoon sun, still reflected the fire from the bushes burning in the clearing it had found. The cave opened up to reveal a space large enough to house the beast and, Eve suspected, give it room to thrash its kills before roasting or eating them.

By the dread wolf, she was never going to see Cory or Solas again.

“At the ready?” Hawke murmured to them. When they all nodded in turn, she lifted her staff and let out a cry, leading them to attack.

\---

The fight felt like it went on for several hours, but was really maybe less than one. Once Hawke was satisfied with the footage she got of the dragon, Merrill finally insisted they all head out into the daylight so they could properly tend to their injuries.

Eve was sitting in the sand on what her friends had called the Wounded Coast, trying to spread a poultice on a burn on her wrist. Varric was grumbling about one of his favorite shirts being singed and therefore ruined (“Well you know not to wear good clothes to the Bone Pit,” Isabela had chided) and Hawke was clumsily trying to heal a burn on Garrett’s shoulder. Merrill fussed over Isabela, who kept trying to brush her off like the bleeding gash in her head was nothing.

“So that was fun.” Hawke broke a long silence. “We should do that more often. Dragons are neat.”

Garrett raised a brow at her. “We have very different definitions of ‘fun’ and ‘neat’, Marian.”

“That was fun like getting a tooth pulled by a string tied to a bronto is fun, Hawke.” Varric grunted, giving up on his shirt as he pulled it back over his head.

“Well, you’re all party poopers.” Hawke finally gave up on healing magic and settled for handing Garrett some salve, before moving to plop down next to Eve in the sand. “You had fun though, right Eve?”

“No.” She held up her broken bow and burnt arm as proof. “And I’ll have even less fun when my roommate finds out you kidnapped me and took me dragon slaying.”

“Kidnapped is such a strong word.” the other mage shrugged. “You came willingly, after all.” Before Eve could argue that, while she did come willingly, she didn’t know about the _dragons_ , Hawke threw an arm around her shoulder. “Speaking of dragons, though, you never answered my question.”

Eve just. Stared. “Marian Hawke. If I could become a dragon, I would have back there.”

Hawke pouted. “Okay. Good point.” She flopped on her back in the sandbank dramatically. “Why won’t the universe let me be a dragon? Is it really so much to ask?”

“Is that a serious question? Are you actually honestly serious? Dread wolf take you, Hawke, what in the Creator’s name is your death wish?”

“I literally just told you. To be able to turn into a dragon. Fullstop.”

“Well, I sure hope you figure it out. Because I know at least one dwarf who’s going to want to kill you come Monday.” Eve looked sadly at the pieces of her bow. Maybe Solas could help her fix it. “And it’s not Varric this time, actually. So you might need to be a dragon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Hawke. Don’t let your dreams be dreams, you’ll be a dragon someday. Probably.
> 
> Also we’ve finished chapter 3 and are a couple pages into chapter 4 so prepare yourselves.  
> -Sarah
> 
> Dear readers,  
> No really, another chapter and a half are sitting on our google drives and Sarah is so patient for putting up with my impatience. What did I call myself today? Oh yes, a rusty fuss bucket. Sarah's an angel though.  
> For a second I almost called Cory and Eve angels too, but then I remembered what we have planned.  
> None of us are angels.  
> None of us.  
> Except Garrett.  
> Thank you for existing <3  
> \--Livv


	3. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corynn goes to visit her family for the weekend. Well, technically.

Within fifteen minutes of being in Oleda’s car, Corynn was already trying to pick a fight with her aunt. And she was probably going to get that fight, too. (As was custom.)

“What are you even doing at that college, girl?” Oleda said, putting her cigarette out. Corynn hated how she smoked in the car. As she’d said. Repeatedly.

“Oh, you know, sleeping around, doing every drug in existence, selling Carta secrets to frat boys for cheap beer and sexual favors. Fucking elves.” 

“I hope you’re joking about the last one, at least.” And she lit another cigarette. 

“You know, you’re going to kill yourself with those things. And I’m just going to flip off all three people who show up to the funeral and then dance on your grave.”

“Not if you get yourself killed with that fucking big mouth of yours.” Oleda cracked the window. As if it helped.

“And wouldn’t that be a great day for you.” Corynn watched Ostwick disappearing behind them in the side mirror.

“Now don’t put words in my mouth, girl.” Oleda spit out. “You know, I could have just as easily thrown you out on the street. Your father wasn’t shit to me, and I definitely - “

“Didn’t owe it to him to look after an ungrateful nug-runt like me. Can we not play ‘five hundred reasons why Cory’s worthless’ today? I’m really not in the mood.” She resisted the urge to text Eve, just to have someone else to talk to. Anyone else. 

“We’re here.” Corynn hadn’t noticed Oleda had pulled off the little dirt road and behind a short hill, where a beat up miniature freight truck waited, surrounded by dwarves armed to varying degrees. The truck looked like it had once borne the logo of one of many Orzammar shipping companies on its side, and had been hastily spraypainted over at one point. Corynn also noted that the hood was an entirely different color than the rest of the truck. Because nothing said “we’re definitely not Carta” like a piece of shit truck full of out of place dwarves.

Corynn climbed out of her aunt’s SUV without another word, and went to the back for her weapons. She was just hired muscle today, someone to make sure the buyers didn’t back out. She found her daggers actually conveyed this message best, as well as a set of brass knuckles she slipped into her pocket. She wasn’t much for guns, but she slipped a small handgun into her belt anyway.

“Cadash, you made it!” That she _didn’t_ roll her eyes at Jernek’s voice was a miracle. “I was afraid you’d back out. Since you keep cancelling on Berahlt.”

“Berahlt keeps forgetting what he’s already hired me to do.” She was checking to make sure she’d caked on enough dark eye makeup. _That_ was definitely intimidating. 

“Yeah, well, I hope his little pet project pays off. We’ve needed you.” He clapped her on the shoulder.

“And I’m here.” _That’s_ when she rolled her eyes. “Can we get started? Oleda’s just a minute from keeling over.” She ignored the cry of “I _heard_ that!” as she followed Jernek to the truck.

\-----

The ride back to Ostwick was rough. Corynn had to sit in the back of the truck to keep an eye on the cargo, which meant no seatbelts and a closed space with two other dwarves who smelled like they confused cheap men’s body spray with soap. Plus she had no actual way to figure out how long they were on the road, so it felt longer than it probably was.

When Oleda finally opened the back of the truck, Corynn felt like she’d been holding her breath for hours. She stepped out, finding herself in an alley behind a strip mall, sometime in the late evening, she’d guess. Jernek waved a middle aged dwarf over to the truck.

His eyes were darting left and right, and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists. A nervous contact was never a good sign. _So much for an easy job_.

She set her shoulders a bit higher, push her coat back to make sure the man saw the hilt of one of her knives. She gave him a severe look while Jernek put on his best face, and started working out the terms of the deal.

With nothing else to do but look tough, Corynn scanned the back lot where they were parked. They were alone - she doubted she’d be outside if they weren’t. But this wasn’t exactly private property, and one conscious citizen with a smartphone could be trouble. She wasn’t in the mood to get arrested, or fired. Granted that getting “fired” from the Carta meant getting murdered horribly.

A door creaked, and she started. Two more dwarves in heavy leather coats stepped out from the back of the store. Her hand brushed the hilt of her dagger, and she stepped in between Jernek and the approaching figures. For all she knew, they were employees on a smoke break. She waited for them to stop. 

They didn’t. They kept walking towards them.

Oleda finally noticed that she was on edge. “Don’t stand there, girl. Do - “

“I _am_ doing something!” She hissed. “Don’t come closer. What do you want?” She asked the dwarves.

“For you to leave.” The older-looking of the two said, brushing his coat back to show off his gun holster. “Rodon isn’t dealing with the Carta anymore. We’re here to make sure he gets a clean break.”

“Clean brea- oh for fuck’s sake, Rodon, what is this?” Jernek reached out to stop Rodon before he could run, and Corynn stepped between them and the leather-clad dwarves before they could advance any further, blades already drawn. 

“Knives? Fucking _knives?_ ” She heard one say, as she ducked a punch and landed her blade into the shoulder of the older dwarf. Fortunately, the shoulder closest to his gun. Unfortunately, this gave his buddy a chance to draw his own firearm, and she turned around just in time to meet the butt of his gun as he decked her across the face. 

Cory heard a strangled cry of “Don’t!” and a loud shot fired too close to her ears to be anything close to good news, just before she blacked out.

\----

Corynn came to stretched across the backseat of a car. She felt something cold covering her eye, and reached up to find a plastic shopping bag full of ice. Also, everything hurt, and she kind of wanted to die.

“She’s up,” a woman’s voice she didn’t recognize grunted from the front seat. “Give Jernek a call, he’ll want to know. Hey kid,” The woman glanced back at her. “No, don’t sit up. We’re a block away from your aunt’s place. Found a medic who doesn’t ask questions, should meet us there.” 

“Oh. Okay. What - “

“You were pistolwhipped. Your aunt took a bullet to her arm. No one else was hurt. Well, no one on our side.” She snorted. “Oh, Yeah. I’m Hedal, this is Agna. We were your backup. Aaand we’re here.”

Walking was stupid, and Corynn silently vowed to never do it again. Once she was in the house, she flopped onto the nearest couch and decided maybe she could stay there forever and ever. She probably fell asleep thinking that, because what felt like only moments later, cold hands were poking her face, and it was very rude. 

“- No concussion, nothing broken that I can see. I really think you should take her to a hospital - “ 

“No.” Someone insisted. “She’ll be fine. She’s been through worse.” 

Corynn sat up then, and instantly regretted it. Her head swam, and the medic’s hands were still too cold and poking bruises that obviously hurt, why else would she be bruised there? She suddenly missed Eve and her stupid healing magic again. At least she had a decent bedside manner. 

“Here’s some more ice then,” The man looked defeated, but handed her a cold compress. “If you start throwing up, go to the hospital. _Period_. I’ll go check on Oleda again.” 

“Still afraid the medical industrial complex is out to get us, Jernek?” Corynn joked, and smiling hurt, dammit. And all she got as a reward was an eyeroll, so it wasn’t even worth it.

“You’d better be up for working again tomorrow, Cadash. We have to sell this shipment before the weekend’s out, and our next buyer isn’t a nug-humping shitbag.”

“So you say,” Corynn winced as she took the compress off of her face so she could inspect her injury in her phone’s screen. “Well, I guess the black eye will give people the impression that I don’t take shit. Why do I put up with any of this again?”

Jernek snorted. Everyone knew the answer was, _because no one here gets a choice._ “You’re aunt’s gonna live, by the way. Damn shame, that. But this still means we’re down a few guns for tomorrow. Someday, Berahlt’s gonna give us more people on these jobs.”

“And someday, I’m gonna be a Paragon.” she gave Jernek a big, fake grin. Which, of course, hurt.

“Just rest up, Cadash.” Jernek picked up one of his guns from the coffee table, and started taking it apart. “We do this all over again at dawn.”

\-----

Three days later, Corynn finally pulled into a parking spot in front of her apartment. She leaned back against her seat for a moment and let herself just breathe, prepare herself to stand again, and to eventually take her few bags into the house. She was still so _tired_. Glad that she wasn’t going to get killed for a failed job (they finally sold the lyrium two buyers and a split lip later), but tired. And hoping at least a little that she had the place to herself, so she could just avoid personal interaction and go straight to bed for the rest of the week.

It was then she noticed more cars parked around her than usual.

She abandoned her bags for now, deciding nothing in them was worth the physical exertion of carrying them. And, of course, she had a feeling her hopes of avoiding people were about to be dashed.

Of all the scenarios she had mentally prepared herself for on the walk from her car to the door, finding Isabela naked on her couch was not one of them.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, we have got to talk about boundaries.” She drew a hand over her face. “Where’s Eve?”

“In the kitchen with Merrill. Eve! Your charming roommate is home!” The fact that Isabela made no attempt at covering up in Corynn’s presence did not escape her notice.

“Cory’s home?” The elf’s voice was about three octaves higher than usual. There was a clattering from the kitchen -- the unmistakable sound of tupperware and plastic dishes being knocked about the counter and onto the floor. The pattering of bare feet before, finally, the kitchen door swung open -- revealing Eve, barely covered by the only cooking apron either of them owned. Merrill peeked out from behind her, just as naked as Isabela and far more curious about the new arrival.

“You were supposed to be home _ages_ ago, Lethallan,” Eve was already scolding her. Really? Right now, she was the one being scolded. Oh, that’s _rich_. “You said you’d be back by the morning, didn’t you?”

“So I’m a few hours late, and you decide I’m never coming back? Great time for a no pants party?” Cory snorted, turning her head so maybe Eve wouldn’t notice the black eye yet. “You know, none of this is my business. I’m exhausted from the trip. I’m going to bed.”

“I didn’t- Cory, wait,” she reached for her arm to stop Cory from leaving, finally getting a look at her face. Eve sucked in a short breath. “Elgar’nan, what happened?”

Cory pressed her lips together and started to look away, only for them to fall on Eve’s arm, where a nasty new burn scar was beginning to cover forearm. “...Maybe I should be asking the same thing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing to be alarmed about.” Isabela waved a hand casually, from where she was still naked on their couch. “It was just a dragon.”

“Excuse me.” Cory turned slowly to look between them. “I did not just hear you say this was a dragon.”

“Well, her arm’s not, obviously,” Merrill piped up. “But a dragon did do it. I tried to heal it, though. As best I could. Haven’t had much practice, lately.”

Eve was trying to inch away unnoticed, only to be caught under Corynn’s scrutiny.

“You chased a fucking _dragon_?” 

“Well, no, not exactly.” Eve shot a glare at Isabela and Merrill. “Technically, only Hawke really chased it. We just, you know, kept it from killing her. A lot.”

“Hawke. Chased a dragon.” Cory just blinked. “What were you even doing _near_ a dragon? Why was there a dragon in Kirkwall?!”

“There’s a video if you want proof,” Isabela offered, and Eve shot her another look.

Cory pinched the bridge of her nose, begging her ancestors and Andraste (and hell, maybe even Mythal at this point) to give her strength. “Just… Is everyone ok? Are _you_ ok?”

Eve bit her lip and nodded, her hand moving to cover the burn. “It’s really not as bad as it sounds. Or looks. Hawke’s brother hurt his arm, but he should be better in a week. Hawke just got… excited.”

“Ha, excited.” Isabela snorted. “She has the most massive boner for dragons, you wouldn’t believe. Shit, Merrill, we should’ve been there when she was celebrating after.”

“I don’t know. Fenris might have felt a bit crowded out.” And Merrill said it so matter of factly that Cory honestly wondered if this was a joke or not. She realized, seeing that her roommate had probably slept with both of these women already not even hours ago, it probably wasn’t. Elves were so weird.

“Ah, you’re probably right. Another time.” Isabela sighed as Merrill joined her on the couch, snuggling close.

Eve shifted beside Cory, nervously twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. “See? I’m alright. Now can you tell me what happened to you?”

“Um…” Shit. Cory was actually hoping she’d managed to deflect the conversation away from her old injuries. Not that she could easily hide a black eye and split lip. “Got into a fist fight with one of my cousins. I can’t even remember over what, but it was stupid.” She shrugged. “Dwarves, you know?”

“I don’t really know. I’m sorry.” Eve lifted a hand, as if to gingerly touch just under Cory’s eye where it began to swell. Cory flinched too fast, pulling away, and Eve’s hand fell to her side. “Can I help you heal it, at least?”

“What about-” She jerked her head slightly toward Merrill and Isabela, who were watching them with too much interest.

“They already know I can do magic. The trip to the dragon was… revealing.”

“Says the woman wearing only an apron.”

Eve’s cheeks heated. “I was cooking. I needed the apron.”  
“That’s not- you know what, yeah, fine. Heal me. Just-- let me get a drink first? Sort of been needing one.”

Eve gave her a little nod and stepped out of the way. Across the room, Isabela cleared her throat and shifted Merrill out of her lap. “Think I’ll help you there, Cadash. Could use something too.”

Cory spared Isabela a glance before resigning herself and motioning her naked friend to follow her to the kitchen. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Isabela crossed her arms, giving Cory a hard look.

“So between you and me, this trip you took…”

Cory kept her back to her, body stiffening. She did her best to ignore the question. “What’s your poison? Whiskey?”

“Cadash.” A hand landed on the counter beside her, too close for comfort.

“Rivaini.”

“Tell me.” Maker, how close was her mouth to Corynn’s ear? Did she have to whisper like that? “Exactly how much Lyrium did you move this weekend?”

Cory pressed her forehead to the counter, resigned. “How did you know?” Were it anyone else backing her into this particular corner, she might have resisted a bit longer. Mostly, if it were a dwarf. Humans weren’t too dangerous with this kind of knowledge usually.

Usually.

“Come on, sweet thing, you’re a poor surface dwarf in Kirkwall, and you’re certainly not a merchant.” Isabela leaned back against the counter, a bit more casual now, and certainly smug. “And you vanish for a weekend to ‘visit family’ and return looking like you took on the entire Carta yourself?”

“To be fair, House Cadash is kind of huge. It might very well have been my cousin who did this.”

“Not the point.” The other woman sighed, and Cory thought for a moment she looked serious. Concerned. So unlike herself it was startling. “Look, I won’t say anything to Eve. That’s your business. And I don’t have to say anything to the others - I’d put good money down on Varric sizing you up the moment he looked at you.” That made Cory flush and she hated it. “But please, just… Be careful? Let me know if you get stuck somewhere you can’t get out, hmm?”

“What would you know about this shit, anyway?”

“Oh, sweet thing, I’ve been around.” She turned just enough that Cory could make out one of the many tattoos that covered Isabela’s body -- most of them obviously Rivaini in style and flowing together in a delicate tapestry. One, though, stood out bearing the mark of the Raiders. Cory’s mouth went dry. “I’ve served my time here and there. They don’t call me a pirate on campus because I download movies.”

“Yet here you are.” 

“Yet here I am.” Isabela bumped her hip. “For now.”

“...You won’t tell Eve?”

“Swear by the sea, she won’t hear it from me.”

For all it was worth, it set her more at ease than she expected. At least for now. 

“Now, I was promised alcohol.” Isabela grinned, reaching for two glasses. “And whiskey will do just fine.” 

“Rocks or no? And I’m a dwarf, so keep in mind these might be literal rocks.” That earned a laugh from Isabela as she went to the freezer for ice.

Cory pulled the bottle of whiskey down from the cabinet, and paused. “Hey, Isabela?” She turned around. This needed to be said to her face. “Be careful with Eve.”

“Oh, you give me too much credit, sweet thing.” Isabela shook her head. “And you don’t give her enough. She’s a big girl. You can relax. I don’t think I’m enough to break her.”

“We’re all enough.” Cory gave her a bitter smile. “Trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by my obsession with dwarves and our combined need for naked EveBelaMerrill. MerBelEve? idk. Enjoy the gay.  
> \- Sarah
> 
> One of us is stuck in a flood but that's ok because there are naked ladies in this chapter. Isabela owns my heart did you know that? Eve is oblivious. And I'm gay.  
> Thank you for existing!  
> \--Livv
> 
> Also the biggest thanks in the universe to [playingwithdinos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/playwithdinos/pseuds/playwithdinos%20) for being our beta for this chapter! Please go read Whetstone right now immediately your life will be forever changed.


	4. But I don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs.

_“Wolffe. We meet again.”_

_The squeak of leather was unmistakeable as the tall human turned around, removing sunglasses that were too dark._

_“Althia.” He grinned. “I thought you left the city. Can’t say I’m surprised. Or disappointed.”_

_“Maybe you should be.”_

_The elf woman kept her distance, eyes sharp._

_“You don’t have anything to do with this case, do you?” He circled closer to her, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I think you would, but-”_

_“Wolffe.”_

_“-Just saying, covering bases. Is this at least important?”_

_She sighed. “I wouldn’t have called you at the station if this wasn’t important.”_

_She laid out a small leather box on the table, tracing her hand over it like she was afraid to open it. “I thought you might be interested in this,” she said._

_“And what in the Maker’s name is that?”_

_"Hm. You still like to mention Him, despite everything?” Her smile was cutting._

_“Althia.”_

_She wordlessly opened the case then, and he sweared the mirror glows. “An Eluvian.” she said. “The last of its kind.”_

_“...Where did you get this?” He breathed, reaching out but not quite touching it, as if he was afraid it would burn him._

_Maybe it would._

_“You need to find your killer in the Fade? This is the only way without entering it yourself.” And of course she knew that it would trap him forever._

_“Althia.” He stopped himself, closing his eyes. “Shit, Andraste.” He pinched the bridge of his nose._

_“Ah, there we go. Are you finally remembering?”_

_“No- Yes. You know it’s not that simple.”_

_She stepped around the table so that she was right in front of him, not inches away._

_“I need the mirror.” He rasped out._

_“You do.” She hummed, touching his chin with the tip of her finger._

_“What do you want for it?”_

_“Say my name again, Wolffe.”_

_“Althia.”_

_“Oh, tsk tsk.” She patted his cheek. “You were so close. Try again, my heart.”_

_“Andraste.”_

_Her lips curled in a smirk as she leaned in toward him. “Much better.”_

_They kiss then. Hard, passionate, all hands and swelling music._

_She broke the kiss just long enough to say, “You know, the Dalish have a saying about you, Fen’harel.”_

_The human begins panting, raising an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”_

_“May the Dread Wolf take you.”_

_“I intend to. I assure you.”_

_And they kiss again._

\-----

Eve wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings, so Solas took one of her headphones out. “How are you not embarrassed to be watching this in public?”

She pouted at him. “It’s a good show.” And when he gave her a look, “What? They took a few... liberties with history, sure,”

“You have no idea,” He muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, Super Nerd, we know you could do better.” She meant it affectionately, but he still gave her the closest thing to a childish pout she’d ever seen on him, and she actually thought it was adorable.

“You know, I’m starting to think what Cory said is right. Well… Okay, never mind. I just remembered she called you a ‘stuffy know it all’ and that she wanted to get you drunk, and I’m just now realizing that wasn’t a joke.” She tapped her finger against her chin as she spoke. “I’m not leaving you two alone. Ever.”

“I would appreciate that.” He took a seat beside her on the bench as she pocketed her phone, his brows furrowing when he saw her arm. “I wish you would let me heal that for you, Lethallan. It’s going to scar if you keep doing it unevenly.”

Eve flushed, covering the burn on her forearm with her hand. “Oh, well, that’s-” She cleared her throat. “That may be a little on purpose.”

“On purpose.” He repeated.

“Yes.”

“You aren’t healing it. On purpose.”

“Well, sure.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It would make a nice story, wouldn’t it? A little memento of fighting a dragon? If I do it right it won’t look too bad. You’re giving me that look. Why are you giving me that look? Oh, you don’t think that sounds crazy, do you?”

“Have I ever called you crazy, Lethallan?”

“Yes, you have.” She crossed her arms. “Twice last month.”

“Hm. So I did.” He already seemed to have lost focus, reaching for one of the books in the stack beside her. He flipped through it distractedly. “So tell me, do you have that child of stone roommate of yours to thank for this injury, too?”

“Okay. You two really need to sit down and have a real conversation, because anyone who knows _anything_  about Cory knows she would never in a million years encourage me fighting dragons.” Then, under her breath, “And, Creators, if you two could join forces disapproving of me…”

“Perhaps we wouldn’t have to wonder where you find yourself fighting dragons?”

“Or you’d be there to help.”

He lowered the book in his hands. “...Lethallan.”

“It was exciting.”

“Eve.”

“You would have liked it.”

“ _Eve_.”

“I broke my brother’s bow.”

“You- Why were you using a bow? Against a dragon?”

“Well they...um.” She glanced around briefly. “Didn’t know I was a mage yet?”

“Who didn’t, exactly?”

“Just Hawke and her friends.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “They figured it out after the dragonlings attacked and I lost my arrows.”

He sighed. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Those bows are not made to direct magic.”

“It worked fine for a while!” She protested, itching at the unhealed scar. “Just not with the rougher things. It liked lightning but not-”

“Ice.” His lips pressed into a thin frown. “The spell I taught you last week.”

“Yes.”

He muttered a curse under his breath in elvish.

“It sounds as though you need more practice.”

“I’ve been practicing!” She insisted, and it was true. Sort of. Practicing openly in the city was hard, and getting away from the city long enough to practice on her own was harder. Her excursion into the Bone Pit had been her first time out of city limits in _months._  She hadn’t realized just how stir crazy she had been until she got back to the apartment. (She made a mental note to thank Merrill and Isabela again for keeping her company when the silence of the space just seemed too great to handle.)

“Would you like my aid, or not?” The look he gave her was critical, the sort that suggested he thought she was being childish again. Well ok; he was right. A little. But only a little.

“Of course I want your help.” She sagged against him a little, letting her head rest on his shoulder for just a moment. “I’m a sap for help. Please, Solas, by all means, help me. Pick apart my spells. Dash me away to do dangerous, illegal things.”

He looked down at her, raising a brow. “Technically, it’s only illegal within city limits.”

“So why do we practice at your apartment? That’s still in the city. Still, technically, illegal.”

“There isn’t much outside of Kirkwall except barren beaches and Sundermount, and they do not appreciate my company.” He said it so casually as if there wasn’t a story there.

“You don’t seem very worried I’ll break something one day. Most people seem to worry I’ll break something if I’m practicing inside.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you intend to break something of mine?”

“Well no, of course not.” She sat up straighter, taking her head off his shoulder. “That would just be rude.”

“Then you will not.” He smiled then, and Eve flushed. Hopefully it wasn’t noticeable. Oh, but it probably was. It always was.

She looked down at her phone -- only 4:00. Still hours before she had to be home in time to meet up with Cory. “Alright, if you say so. But if something does break, you have to promise not to be cross.”

“I have very few things I would be cross over losing.” The expression on his face was odd, and replaced with another friendly smile too quickly to interpret. “I promise.”

\------

If you asked Cory where Solas lived, she would tell you in less than a breath that he never left the library. That he had a sleeping bag stashed somewhere in his books, and that he probably had a lunchbox full of egg salad for breakfast lunch and dinner.

The truth was a little more mundane.

He had an apartment on campus, though most of his building seemed rather empty most of the time. Books did litter most of the surfaces, but in neat stacks with the spines perfectly visible so you could see the titles. Besides the books, he didn’t have much around in the way of personal belongings. Or furniture.

The door locked securely behind them, with a quiet spell to muffle them from the outside -- just in case.

Training with Solas wasn’t anything like training back home with her Keeper. The Keeper was strict, but tough; there was always a learning opportunity around every corner, to her.

Solas kept quiet when they first arrived. He wasn’t going to lecture her, not like the Keeper did. He held his patience while she took off her coat and dropped her backpack by the wall. He helped her move the chairs out of the way in the living room and draw the blinds and waited while she pulled her hair back.

When she eventually turned to him, he was holding out a paintbrush toward to her.

“That’s not a staff,” she said, so observantly.

“Quite right. It is not.” He moved forward to press it into her hand. “It will be your foci for the evening.”

“But it’s-”

“I’m aware of what it is.” Solas’ voice was still controlled and patient, despite what Eve felt was her pestering. He moved to stand behind her, guiding her hand to lift it. “You broke your brothers bow because you were ill-prepared to use something in your staff’s stead. We will rectify that.”

“With a paintbrush?”

“With a paintbrush.”

“And… If I accidentally set the paintbrush on fire?”

“There are other paintbrushes.”

She remained quiet for a long moment, staring at it in her hand, until he cleared his throat. “Stop picturing it on fire, Eve.”

“But it would be like a little torch, with the bristles…”

“Eve.”

“Ok, ok. Not a fire. No fire. Thinking about ice. So much ice, cold, brrr.”

“Are you done?”

“Maybe.”

She expected him to grow annoyed with her. She couldn’t help but notice he was smiling, even faintly.

“Now. First, I need you to close your eyes.” He was still standing behind her, just inches from pressing against her back. It was _very_  distracting. “Focus on the veil itself, as you might have when you first learned to control your magic.”

She did as instructed, although it took much more effort than she cared to admit. It was second nature to her by now, feeling out for the veil, reaching just past it without going too far. It was a sensation she was familiar with; not quite warm, not quite chilling, every nerve sparking in response to whatever energies lie beyond its touch.

His hand settled on her waist. Her concentration was gone.

“Now, I want you to do that again.” Fucking - why did his voice have to give her chills like that? “And prepare to cast a spell. Ice, please. As you cast it, focus on the very point of this paintbrush. Let it flow from your arm, like an extension of your hand.”

It seemed simple enough. In theory, it _should_  have been simple enough. But his free hand came to cover hers, holding it higher so the paintbrush was level with her eyes. Creators, he had fine fingers. When they slid down to touch her wrist, she could still feel where they had been brushing her knuckles.

Her face must have been on fire. Oh, thank everything for the small mercy of him being behind her so he couldn’t see it -- but her ears would give it away. They heated up just as easily as her face.

What was she supposed to be focusing on?

Right; ice.

Was he looking at her? Silly thought, of course he was. He was touching her too.   
she bet if she just turned her head a _l_ _ittle_ \--

“Is something wrong, Lethallan?” His voice almost made her jump.

Shit.

“Why would something be wrong?” She came just short of letting out a nervous laugh.

“You’ve been staring at the brush for some time,” he said, so close to her ear. “But haven’t cast the spell.”

 

She swallowed. Hard. And really hoped the chill that ran up her spine wasn’t noticeable. “Just, uh, having trouble focusing today. That’s all.”

“I’ve noticed.” He’s not laughing, is he? She begs the Creators to have mercy on her and please, please don’t let him be laughing at her.

She pressed her lips together, telling herself that it was silly to worry about him laughing, silly to get so distracted by him. They’d done this before; he’d taught her plenty of time just as close, guiding her stance.

He’d bent over books with her, too, either of them reaching around the other for one just out of their grasp. It wasn’t odd for their hands to brush, for their knees to be pressed against each other. Close proximity was perfectly normal, while he was tutoring her.

And often it was just as distracting as it was proving to be, now, if she were honest.

Entirely, enrapturingly distracting.

In her hand, the brush caught fire.

“I could have sworn I said no fire.” Solas sighed, taking the brush from her hand.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to,” Eve stammered, following him to the kitchen near where he dropped the flaming paint brush in the sink and dosed it under the faucet. She worried her lip between her teeth, searching his face for any sign of anger - or worse, disappointment.

There was none. Huh.

“Well, good thing I bought several of these at a discount.”

“So you’re… not mad?” Eve leaned against the counter.

“Hardly. Why should I be?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “It was but an accident. This is why you practice in a controlled place.”

“I-- right. Yeah.” But why was he so _patient_  with her?

“Come. We can leave this here for now. There are more brushes.” He dried his hands off with a dish rag before leading her back to the living room, where the wisp still waited. Sure enough, he had a box full of brushes on the sofa, waiting to be used.

Or, more likely, to join their counterpart in the sink with burnt bristles.

\-----

After an hour and a half, Corynn finally gave up on waiting for Eve and went alone.

It wasn’t _that_  important to take Eve with her. She was only going to Waffle Trough-le (the literal worst named restaurant in all of the Free Marches, possibly all of Thedas). Sure, it was to intimidate the elderly store owners into paying their protections, and she thought Eve might like to be distracted by the horrible, colorful barnyard-themed breakfast place while she did so. Eve loved that kind of shit.

It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if Eve had just returned a call. Or a text. Or _something_.

The meeting was uneventful. Corynn made an old woman cry. She did that so often she’d grown numb to it. She also might have broken a deep fryer, but that was just collateral damage. The elderly owners ended up paying, begging her not to make a scene since they had what sounded like a child’s birthday party in the dining area.  
Bottom-rung jobs were always her favorite.  
Eve still hadn’t returned her texts by time she finished and made it back to her car. Was she okay? Was she hurt? Or was her roommate just blowing her off to fuck an egg?  
She drove to one of the pubs Berahlt owned, some seedy grease bucket directly across the street from a strip club that she was fairly certain he also owned. Or, might as well have owned, as often has he blew his money there.  
She stood at the delivery door and knocked, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited. Although, she still somehow jumped when the door swung open a few minutes later. “Delivery for Berahlt? It’s important.” The elf who answered the door just waved her in, and immediately Corynn was hit with the scent of old fryer oil, stale beer, and something else putrid that she couldn’t quite place. [color=#333333]She caught herself wondering why a Carta-owned pub couldn't be at least well kept.[/color]  
“Ah, Cadash!” Berahlt’s voice boomed through the stockroom. “Tell me you brought me good news.”  
“The Yoltheds paid up. Everything, plus advance on next month.” She reached into the inside of her jacket for the cash, and didn’t miss the way Berahlt looked at it like a starving dog at a steak.  
“And not a drop of blood on you! This is why we keep you around, Cadash.” He tucked the cash into his own jacket. “Those elderly couples do always break so easily, yeah?”  
Okay. That sort of… Unsettled her, somehow. Perhaps because he sounded almost disappointed that she didn’t have to get violent with them? Or, that could have been her imagination. Berahlt was already an ass, and she really wouldn’t put it past him to be a sadistic one as well.  
“Now, I know those are always the toughest jobs. No one wants to hit an old lady right?” He laughed, and Corynn couldn’t place why that made her feel… Sick. He leaned back against one of the crates as he spoke. “You always come through, though. Just like your old Da, you are. Never afraid to get your hands dirty.”  
Oh, okay. So she was the one they called when they needed innocents injured. Like her father. _That_   was where the sick feeling was coming from.  
She decided it was time to go.  
She gave her usual brisk goodbye, and checked her phone on her way back out to the street where she parked.   
_4 Messages from Eve: “Hey! So sorry I missed dinner, I was with Solas…”_  
She didn’t bother opening it as she got into the car.  
\-----  
Cory wasn’t there yet when Eve finally got home. Distantly, she wondered if she should take the opportunity to make sure she didn’t smell too much of all the paintbrushes she ended up burning, but forgot all about worrying about it two steps into the kitchen. Her stomach was growling, her hands were shaking, and everything in her felt exhausted.  
Who knew accidentally setting things on fire could be so taxing?  
Sure, she could find one of the bottles of lyrium she kept for emergencies, but the thought twisted her gut painfully. She could hear her Keeper’s words echoing in her ears about never relying on the stuff. About how difficult it was to obtain, especially for her clan.  
No, she wasn’t going near the lyrium tonight. She didn’t need it. Any elven mage worth her salt could muster up _something_  else to get by.   
Her stomach growled again. With a sigh, Eve opened the fridge to find something, anything, to eat.  
She was barely through a third slice of cold pizza when the door of her apartment opened and the tell-tale sound of Cory’s feet shuffling on the floor met Eve’s ears.  
“Eve?” Cory called. What sounded like a jacket landed on the floor.  
“Right here.” Eve came out to the living room, the pizza still in her hand.  
Cory’s eyes focused on it, her lips pressed together. She said nothing.  
“Did you- did you get my text?” Eve asked, and took another small bite.  
“I did.” Corys lips tightened. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans, keeping her eyes on the pizza instead of Eve’s face. “Why didn’t you text me earlier?”  
“Well the paintbrushes kept catching fire-,” Eve started, but stopped herself quickly. “I mean, not on purpose, but it was supposed to be ice. And-”  
Cory blinked at her, finally looking at her face. Did she always look so tired? “You know, you could just cut the crap and say you forgot.”  
Eve lowers the pizza in her hands. “I- I didn’t forget. Not at first, I mean.”  
“Bullshit.” Cory walked past her, their shoulders brushing so roughly that Eve stumbled. “The egg invited you over and you forgot.”  
“Cory,” Eve protested, following her to the kitchen. “Honestly, I didn’t forget. I thought I’d have time to get home. I- I thought I made sure, but-”  
“But what?” Cory was ducking into the fridge, pulling out a beer. “You got all lost in those dreamy egg eyes?” Her tone was so biting Eve flinched. “Or maybe you are telling the truth, just lost track of time. Was he at least good? You did fuck him, right? Tell me you fucked him, and made this worth it.”  
“Cory that isn’t fair. You’re being a bit of an ass right now.” Her cheeks burned. “You _know_  it isn’t like that. You know I wouldn’t--” She stopped herself and had to look away. No, lying about that right now wouldn’t be wise. She quickly corrected herself. “ _He_  wouldn’t do that.”  
“Really? And him inviting you to his place all the time is what? Being _nice_?” She had the nerve to look shocked at her own words, for just a moment.  
Eve opened and closed her mouth, struggling for a moment. “Fine. What if he would, then? What if I did want him to? Is there something wrong with that?”  
“Nothing. You know what? Nothing is wrong with that.” She practically slammed a cupboard shut. “What does it matter that you blow off everyone else for him?”  
“I didn’t--” But she did. Her face fell. “I’m _sorry_ , Lethallan. Ok? You’re right. But I wasn’t just-- just forgetting you to fawn over him. You _know_  that. I swear, I wasn’t.”  
“It wasn’t - it’s not just _that_ , I - I mean it’s more than just dinner, it was - “ She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before she seemed to deflate. “Apology accepted. I need to go study for calc tomorrow.”   
“Lethallan, I...” She stopped herself, defeated. An accepted apology didn’t mean it was over; it didn’t mean Cory wasn’t still mad. Eve’s gut twisted. She took in a shaky breath and looked away. When had their apartment become so small? “If… if you say so.” She wrapped her arms around herself.   
Cory didn’t look at her as she left Eve alone in the kitchen, her toes curling on the cold tile floor. She knew she couldn’t just stand there, but sticking around the apartment after a conversation like that made her fingers twitch and her stomach twist. A restlessness grew in her the longer she stood there.  
She didn’t bother grabbing her shoes, just her keys and a shawl to cover her shoulders before slipping out the front door without another word. Fresh air would help. It always helped. Kirkwall might not smell like the woods and hills where her clan usually roamed, but it was close enough. Even with the slight smell of cigarettes in the air from someone smoking down the street, and that stench of something foul that always persisted in Kirkwall, the cool night air bit at her nose like an old friend telling her everything was fine, that everything would be ok.  
Her feet did the thinking for her, carrying her through the barely lit streets. She could hear Cory in the back of her head, telling her that Kirkwall was never really safe at night, especially if you’re in the streets alone. Somehow the thought only stung more, making her walk faster; not out of fear, but out of a futile need to escape the lingering, pestering thoughts and worries about Cory.  
She was her best friend, after all.  
When Eve first came to Kirkwall, Cory was the first person she met, the only person she knew. It made sense that they worried for each other, and it made sense that Cory would be upset when Eve didn’t show up.  
She wished she had a better excuse to offer. Cory’s assumption probably would have actually made more sense than the truth, would have seemed more acceptable. Elgar’nan, Eve hadn’t actually given the real excuse. What was she supposed to say?  
‘ _Oh, sorry Cory, I lost track of time setting paintbrushes on fire because I can’t handle Solas’s hand on my hip._ ’  
Creators, that would just get her ridiculed.  
But Cory was also right about that, wasn’t she? There was a reason he was so infuriatingly distracting. There was a reason she couldn’t focus long enough to cast the simplest spell.  
And the entire time he was just so _patient_  about it.  
Eve stopped walking, her hands clutching tight at her shawl to hold it around her as she stared blankly ahead.  
Cory was right.  
The thought was terrifying. Terrifying and energizing and wonderful. A breathless laugh escaped Eve’s lips.  
She was walking again, then running. Her bare feet slapped on the pavement. Her shawl slipped off her shoulders until it only stayed with her by the grace of it still being clutched in one of her hands. She turned down one street, then another, until a familiar building rose up in the distance. She could still faintly smell smoke through his windows -- he must have opened them after she left to air the place out.  
The elevator took too long; it was only three flights of stairs, right? By the time Eve actually reached Solas’s door, knocking on it hard, she was entirely out of breath, bracing a hand against the door frame.  
She hoped he wasn’t sleeping.  
By the Dread Wolf, he probably was.  
Her face was starting to fall and she began to lose hope that he’d answer just as the sound of the locks clicking out of place met her ears, the door opening.  
“Lethallan?” Solas opened the door wider when he saw it was her. “What are you doing back so soon?”  
“Please, please don’t call me that right now.” She swallowed, slipping past him into the apartment.  
“What are you-” He shut the door, turning to follow her  
“No, no, just give me a moment.” She held up her hands, taking a deep breath. “Before I lose my nerve.”  
“Your nerve? Eve, what are you talking about?” He watched her pacing his living room, the perfect picture of on-edge.  
“ _Solas_.” She let out a frustrated sound and stopped in front of him. “I can’t think of how to say this if you keep talking. You’re always _talking_. Do you know how much you talk? Of course you do, what am I saying?” She rubbed a hand over her face. “It just- It makes me want to-”  
“To what?” He lifted his eyebrows, as if afraid she might say she wanted to punch him.  
Instead, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him to her in a sudden kiss. He froze against her at first, as she expected he might. When he didn’t seem to move or react, she pulled back, staring at him for a long moment. Her face heated to the tips of her ears.  
“I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” She turned to take a step for the door, but he caught her by the wrist before she could.  
“Wait.” He opened and closed his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.   
Instead he pulled her close again, pressing their lips together. His free arm wound around her waist while hers found their way wound his neck, holding him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent most of this chapter wanting to squirt Cory with a spray bottle. She has some issues to work out, it looks like. I mean it's pretty obvious where those issues come from. But.
> 
> Also we hope to get the next chapter up sooner. School will be nicer? Hopefully?
> 
> -Sarah
> 
> I think we've had this chapter written for a month now which isn't our worst on the track record. It took a bit to get it edited but mostly we've just both been either stressed or sick.
> 
> But for real I've been SO excited for someone to read this chapter. The beginning was burning a whole in the back of my metaphorical pocket for so long, and the end burned a whole in my heart. We've had this idea for the longest time that there would be a CW show in this verse called Dread the Wolffe that's basically the product of Orlesians basing a series off of the bare minimum knowledge of the Dalish culture and fucking it up. We had a lot of fun formulating that, and might do some side fics. In Sarah's words "it's like the Thedas Supernatural". Except worse. Varric probably secretly wrote an episode or two, lets face it.
> 
> Also Eve is my child and I love her. So much. 
> 
> Thank you for existing!
> 
> \--Livv


End file.
